


New Thirst

by TheaDovah



Series: Now and Forever [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brief Vampirism, Cicero/Listener Centric, Con & Non-Con Blood Drinking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Dragonborn and Listener are Fraternal Twins, Dragonborn is not the Listener, F/M, Fluff, Minor canonical character death, Romance, Slow To Update, Trust, kind-of slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-12-15 10:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheaDovah/pseuds/TheaDovah
Summary: The madman's grip hurt and he threatened to slice her throat for her blasphemy, she looked in his eyes and his raving stopped when she whispered the words that she now knew he desperately needed to hear."Darkness rises when silence dies."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will mostly focus on romance, I made it for myself and so its most likely going to be simple and the chapters will be pretty short but I hope all who read it will enjoy it!
> 
> Went through and edited so there should be fewer typos and misspellings ^w^'

Mirilla Motierre had stepped off the old vessel and onto the creaking docks of Dawnstar, a woman changed. She left her home in High Rock only three months prior to her 19th nameday with the intention to visit her dear sister Emery and support her as she undertook the burden of being Dragonborn. But now as she traveled down the bitter snowy passes toward Whiterun, she felt like that was no longer an option.

 

Aboard the ship she had contracted sanguinare vampiris, and that ember of an urge to save lives and defend Nirn alongside her sister seemed to have evaporated from her. If she were being true to herself then she would admit that she had never really cared for 'keeping the peace' or being kind to others like her sweet sister had. She had always had a gray outlook on life though she kept her opinions mostly hidden from her family, it wouldn't do for a noble lady to be so impartial to the verge of 'immoral', but her sister knew the truth.

 

As she walked the icy paths that led from Dawnstar, she came to realize that if she went to her sister now she would only be a distraction.

 

Her throat felt dry as she traveled down the highway, passing fields of tundra cotton and snowberries as the snow beneath her feet began to thin and melt. She knew it would not be far now until she reached Whiterun if the increasing fauna was anything to go by. She tensed as she walked, the thirst stabbing her gut sharp as a knife. She really wished she had sated herself before she left Dawnstar as a particularly delicious scent filled the evening air.

 

Blood. Sweet, sweet blood.

 

Her skin crawled as she let out a breath, forcing herself to remain calm. The thirst was still new, and this scent was particularly appealing.

 

Her feet carried her faster toward that scent despite herself, she reasoned that it was only logical since it was just down the road. She stopped once she was within sight of a broken down wagon, which held a very large rectangular box in the back. Once her gaze landed on the sweet one, she felt the world halt for a moment and blacken around everything but him. With a clench of her fists, she steeled herself, slowly making her way over to him.

 

Hungry red eyes bore into the man, who was a very strangely dressed Imperial. He was a fighter, she could tell by his build and how his body seemed ready to react in an instant even as he fussed and shrilly cursed at the broken wheel from underneath his wagon. Not wanting a blade at her throat, she cautiously came closer and made her presence known.

 

"Are you alright?" She asked, voice unintentionally tight as she stopped a polite distance away from the man. She wasn't about to attack him simply because he smelled divine, that would be barbaric.

 

He was wiggling and stamping his feet from under the cart and seemed to be attempting to fix the wheel, but where she could see it was surely a lost cause.

 

The sweet-smelling man scooted out from under the cart and furious amber eyes are what greeted her, and his fiery red hair was slicked back and reached his shoulders.

 

"No no no! Cicero is not alright at all!" He exclaimed, kicking gracefully to his feet and stomping over to her, she could see a cut beaded with blood on his cheek as he approached, ah such a small cut and yet such a powerful scent. She licked her lips.

 

"It's broken, broken! How is Cicero supposed to get Mother home like this?!" His hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist, clasping it in both of his hands and giving her a pleasing look. His expression turned so quickly that she wasn't sure she could pinpoint the change.

 

"Kind stranger, couldn't you help poor Cicero? Oh please, oh please! There will be shiny, clinky gold in it for you!" He begged, hunching and making himself look smaller and more pitiful. She couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her at the sight as she nodded.

 

"I'll help, no gold required." Her voice had always been silky and quiet and it never really bothered her, but she wondered if he had trouble hearing her when he leaned in closer as she spoke, the scent of his blood wafting to her nose making her tense once more.

 

His grin was wide and blinding and he had dimples...she felt her stomach flutter and she gently cleared her dry throat, looking away. She still felt like clawing her own throat out to silence the thirst, but his unpredictable attitude was a welcome distraction.

 

"Wonderful!! Go tell Loreius to help poor Cicero, Cicero tried to ask but he keeps turning me away." He pointed eagerly to the farm to their right, then as she went to move he twirled away and began laughing with delight.

 

Briefly she wondered why he constantly referred to himself in the third person...

 

Mirilla walked up the path to the old farmhouse and knocked on the door, hearing a man curse on the opposite side and banging around like metal on wood.

 

“I thought I told you to get the hell away from my property, freak!” The door flung open and the man in question glared above her head, obviously expecting someone else. His eyes widened and he looked down to meet her unimpressed gaze, he coughed and had the decency to look embarrassed.

 

“Oh uh, sorry milady. Thought you were that clown again..” his leery gaze gave her a quick once over that made her skin prickle with disgust. “How can I help you?” he asked finally.

 

She tried not to glare, and also not to imagine draining the life from him for being such a prick.

 

“As a matter of fact, I was hoping you could lend your assistance to my friend and I." Mirilla's voice often had an effect on men, then add her newly acquired vampiric charms and this one was no different. He nodded dumbly and gave her a smile filled with holes. Must have been in one to many brawls..

 

"Of course! Where is your friend? And what do ya need?" He stepped closer into her personal space and she fought off a cringe at his unpleasant smell.

 

"He's just down the path, in fact. I believe you called him a clown." She stated, red eyes narrowing.

 

Whatever charm her smile and voice had over him fell at the mention of the jester and Loreius sneered and folded his arms, his lips twisting into an ugly frown.

 

"No way in hell am I gettin' anywhere near that freak again. Guess you'll just have to ask elsewhere."

 

Mirilla's hand clenched and she held back the urge to tear his throat out with her teeth.

 

"Please, it was only our wagon wheel that snapped so we don't need much. Simply lend me the tools and we will repair it ourselves and be on our way as quickly as possible, we can pay you well."

 

Loreius glared at her, that sneer never leaving his face as he considered her offer. He let out a disgusted sigh and closed his door, heading toward the barn on the other side of his property. She followed, keeping her distance several paces behind him, not keen on being any closer to the man than necessary.

 

He quickly thrust a toolkit in her arms once she reached him.

 

"I don't want to find a single piece missing when I get this back, you can use a bit of lumber from the pile if you need it but that's all." He barked, storming back to his house and muttering unkind things under his breath as he went.

 

Mirilla sighed and swallowed, trying to wet her dry throat as his scent filled her nostrils once more. She calmed herself and made her way back to the jester with the toolkit in hand.

 

He was up in the back of the cart when she reached him, turned away from her and patted the large crate. He sighed sorrowfully and she could hear him talking to himself.

 

"Dear Cicero is sorry Mother.."

 

She frowned slightly and walked up to the wagon, stepping to the back and setting the wooden toolbox down just beside his feet. His head snapped around and his startled eyes looked from her to the toolkit, then back to her.

 

A wide, dimpled grin spread on his face and he laughed in glee.

 

"You got help!!" He stood and did a backflip off the cart, landing on one hand, laughing and then hopping upright to face her.

 

"Oh wonderful! Splendid! Cicero can fix the wagon and finally get mother home safe and sound."

 

He grabbed for the tools and rifled through them, throwing the ones he didn't want to the side and humming happily when he found the ones he did want.

 

As he went to work, Mirilla crouched beside him, knees to her chest and arms wrapped around them. She watched him for a few minutes and deliberately ignored the smell of dried blood caked on his cheek until her attention drifted to the crate. She assumed there must be a coffin within it, the crate being used as extra protection for his mothers resting place. It saddened her to think of how the delay of the broken wheel must pain him, he only seemed to want to take his mother home.

 

She stared curiously at the crate for a while, pondering the woman inside. She must have meant the world to Cicero, she could see his devotion to her in the short time she has known him.

 

 ** _Approach me, child_**.

 

She was lost in her thoughts when she heard it, the voice was a dark and beautiful whisper in the back of her mind. Mirilla's brows furrowed in confusion and she looked around to see who had said it.

 

"What?"

 

Cicero grumbled and reached for the hammer to his left, he stretched and grunted in annoyance before turning to her.

 

"Will the kind stranger please pass the hammer to Cicero? I can't let go of the wheel." He asked, a frustrated chuckle escaping him.

 

Her head turned to him, expression still confused.

 

"Did you hear that?" She asked, voice quiet as she moved to pass him the hammer, Cicero's eyes widened marginally and he stared at her.

 

"Hear what? Cicero didn't hear anything but you."

 

**_Approach me._ **

 

Mirilla stood immediately and her eyes snapped to the crate, mouth opened in shock as she stared at it. When she stood Cicero jumped up in front of her, not caring at all as the wheel fell back out of place once he let it go. His eyes narrowing and body tensing as Mirilla eyed the crate.

 

"Your mother _is_ dead right?" She found herself asking, voice constricted.

 

"What did you hear?" He asked urgently, voice pitched lower than it had been before. She stepped closer to the wagon, and inadvertently closer to Cicero until she was almost touching the wooden rail of the wagon. She reached out to grab ahold of the rail when Cicero stopped her, arm coming out to block her from going further.

 

"What did you _HEAR_." He growled, grabbing her shoulder and turning her to him. She met his wild eyes after a moment and licked her lips nervously.

 

"A voice telling me to approach..is all I heard."

 

Cicero's grip tightened and his eyes narrowed suspiciously, he looked at the crate and then back to Mirilla.

 

"Could you be...but you're not even-!!" He cut himself off and shook his head and started to laugh wickedly, throwing his head back and howling with glee. Mirilla was confused, but not put off by his sudden outburst so she simply stayed put and waited until he stopped.

 

"Surely the kind stranger isn't LYING to Cicero, hmm?! Surely she isn't trying to trick him?" His mad smile stretched on his lips as he returned his attention to her. Mirilla shook her head slightly, eyes returning to the crate as the urge to approach it grew.

 

 ** _Come to me_**.

 

The voice urged and she desperately wished to obey.

 

"Why am I hearing a voice? I don’t understand..." She whispered and her brows furrowed in confusion. Cicero suddenly twirled her around in his arms, spinning her gracefully until she was within reach of the crate. But before he let her go, she felt him press against her back and his breath fanned along her cheek, she flinched slightly when his voice sounded in her ear.

 

"Do not disrespect Mother.." he warned, pausing briefly to fit their cheeks together and chuckle against her.

 

"No matter how kind or lovely the stranger may be, Cicero will punish you if this is a trick." His voice held a dark promise to it, and she felt herself nodding. He hummed in what she assumed was approval and pushed her forward until her hands were merely a few inches away.

 

She felt him move away but knew his eyes never left her as she moved forward the last bit, hands delicately touching the crate.

 

"I'm here.." she whispered.

 

There was silence for several moments, and she had begun to think that maybe she had gone slightly mad and was hearing things due to the thirst. She gasped when the ethereal voice spoke to her once more, filling her with knowledge and a love so strong she could feel her eyes sting with tears. All hunger was forgotten, all she could do was be swept up into the Mothers embrace as she was filled with a deep and intense devotion to this Unholy Goddess.

 

Once she pulled away, she took a moment to process everything that just happened.

 

Night Mother.

Dark Brotherhood.

Listener.

 

It was a lot to process considering she rarely heard of the infamous assassin guild anymore, most claimed they were a myth. Others claimed they were once powerful and to be feared but over the years they began to fall. She herself hadn't heard much about them back at her home in Daggerfall, only whispers.

 

The impatient jester beside her flailed his arms up and demanded to know what she heard, and at her silence, he grabbed her shoulders and spun her around and called her a liar and a deceiver. The madman's grip hurt and he threatened to slice her throat for her blasphemy, she looked in his eyes and his raving stopped when she whispered the words that she now knew he desperately needed to hear.

 

"Darkness rises when silence dies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know most have their own opinions and preferences when it comes to age, but I speculated Cicero was born sometime in the 4E 160s (since he was around during the Great War: 4E 171-175?) ) so I am going to say he's between 32-36. My Dovahkiin and Listener were born in Daggerfall in 4E 182, making them both 19. ^w^'
> 
> Even though the age difference thing isn't much of an issue to either of them, I still wanted to tag it. 
> 
> I've already written several chapters, but it will take time before this is completely finished, so stick around!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter! I kind of follow the dialogue from the game in the chapters that address canon events but for the most part its improv :] 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

"Ooooh you are the Listener! You are the Listener!!! I've served Mother well, I have!"

The jester had been chanting and dancing his joy for the last half hour, bombarding her with questions and also a ridiculous amount of twirling. She didn't really mind though, it was a pleasant change to see so much joy for very existence her as opposed to distrust and hate. Her hungry red eyes and the fact that she wasn't a Nord often did the trick for many of the natives not to trust her, and even though she had been in Skyrim for less than a month she still had been subject to prejudice. Not to mention the uncommon points to her ears, most Bretons nowadays don't develop the slight points like their ancestors did. She took to hiding them behind her hair, just to avoid some of the offhanded comments they were bound to get.

Her thoughts were brought back to the Imperial dancing before her and she smiled, then her silence turned to laughter. Light and clear as a bell, and it had Cicero whirling to face her with a look of shock.

Perhaps he wasn't used to people enjoying his capering.

"Does the Listener...find Cicero amusing?" He asked, his voice raised in pitch and seemed to fill with hope.

Mirilla's eyes widened as she realized how he addressed her, already completely accepting the fact that she is the Listener despite her lack of actually being in the Brotherhood.

"How can I be Listener if I'm not in the Dark Brotherhood?" She asked him, not intentionally ignoring his question but she was still so confused. Cicero didn't seem to mind, he just grinned and swung his arms merrily above his head and began shaking his hips in a Redguard style as he danced.

"You are the Listener because Mother chose you!! Though Cicero had never heard of one being the Listener and not already being within our ranks, it matters not! Mother chose you and that's all that matters!!" He swayed happily as he explained, then spun over to her and grasped her hands in his own velvety gloved ones. "It doesn't matter anymore, the Night Mother has spoken, you are without a doubt one of us now!!"

She stared at him, any words to describe how that made her feel seemed to fall dreadfully short.

"What is the Listener's name? Please tell Cicero, I must know." He pleaded, his jovial expression causing her to smile in return once more. It seemed she couldn't help but smile when he did, it was infectious.

"Mirilla Motierre." She replied softly.

"Oh lovely! Beauuutiful!" Cicero hopped excitedly on his toes. He kissed her hands and fingers with exaggerated noises and then let them go, shimmying around her in a circle before he stopped, gasping loudly and grabbing onto her again.

He was quite handsy, Mirilla noticed.

“Listener we must head to the Falkreath sanctuary at once! As soon as this blasted wagon is fixed we can be on our way!! Oh say you'll come with Cicero, you must, must, must!" He pleaded as if his life depended on it, giving her a hopeful and eager expression.

Mirilla thought on how she had been on her way to Whiterun so she could visit her elder sister at her home in the city, Emery was currently Arch-Mage of The College of Winterhold and it had been two years since they had seen each other, she had yet to congratulate her for that as well. Though now...Looking into Cicero's big, pleading brown eyes had her pausing. 

Should she just accept this as fate? Surely her sister must have felt a similar trepidation when she was chosen by the Divines to carry the fate of the world as the Dragonborn.

If a higher being chose her to be the leader of a brotherhood of assassins who kill in the name of Sithis...who was she to refuse? Besides, she couldn't deny that the life of an assassin would probably suit her much better than that of a hero of the people.

Her lips tugged back further, widening her smile and showing a hint of fang as she nodded to Cicero.

"I'll go with you."

He beamed and cackled, crushing her in a hug and spinning her in circles until she couldn't help but join in his laughter.

"Yesyesyes!!! Oh wonderful and kind Listener!!! You won't regret going with Cicero, not one bit I promise!" He let her down finally after a few more spins, and she was just as breathless with laughter as he was.

"I don't doubt it, Cicero."

It took another hour of repairs on Cicero's part to get the wagon functioning, and they decided to keep 'sour old Vantus Loreius' toolbox just in case of another breakdown. Mirilla hopped in the wagon next to the jester and he beamed in delight at her as they set off.

Being on the road with Cicero was never dull, for he was constantly singing and chattering delightful nonsense. Though the majority of his jokes were a bit macabre, Mirilla didn't mind in the slightest and in fact she found them hilarious.

Every time he made her laugh loudly, where she had to cover her mouth in embarrassment as she fought the giggles, Cicero would get a proud and ecstatic look on his face and just do something to make her laugh even harder.

They didn't talk about themselves, which should have felt odd but somehow it didn't.

It took them a couple hours to get to the Whiterun stables from the edge of Loreius' farm at the speed they were going, and since it was so late they decided it would be best to rest for the evening. They fed and watered Cicero's horse and set up a tent just outside the city for the night since neither of them really wanted to go to the inn.

She didn't mind sharing the space, but Cicero insisted he should sleep in the wagon in order to keep the Night Mother safe and sound.

Mirilla relented after a few attempts to convince him otherwise and made sure he knew that the offer to share still stood if he changed his mind. She got the feeling that it was likely he wouldn't unless she outright ordered him to. That was their arrangement for the next several days on the road, joyful fun and laughter during the ride and at night they would separate.

On the fourth night, Mirilla awoke to a crack of thunder and sat up in her tent, worried for Cicero and the Night Mother. She crawled out and walked over to wake him, but instead found him scribbling away in a journal as he hummed quietly to himself, completely unconcerned with the weather.

He turned to her before she could call out to him and gave her a happy smile.

"Did the thunder wake you, my Listener?" He asked as he closed the journal in his hands and tucked it into his motley, unfolding his legs from their crossed position and dangling them over the side of the wagon. Mirilla nodded and hopped up beside him, his arm coming out to help her though she didn't require it.

"It did, I was worried you and Mother might get rained on." She copied him and let her feet hang carelessly off the side of the cart, their knees knocking together occasionally.

"Have you gotten any sleep?" She asked, stifling a yawn. Cicero shook his head and stretched his arms out, giggling to himself and placing his hands on his knees.

"Oh no, poor Cicero cannot sleep. Hasn't slept in days? Weeks? Hmm he isn't sure."

Mirilla's eyes widened and her brows drew up in shock. She placed a hand on his shoulder in a way that she hoped was conveying her concern and Cicero's eyes followed the touch.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" She asked.

"The Listener did not ask me before?" He replied looking back at her, one brow quirked as if to say 'obviously'.

She huffed and hopped down off the wagon, her skirts catching a bit on the wood as her feet hit the ground. She grumbled and straightened them as Cicero let out a whoop of delight, she shot him a sour look over her shoulder but he pretended not to notice.

"Come to my tent tonight." She said, her voice holding no room for argument. Cicero's amused laughter turned into a surprised chuckle and he deftly hopped to the ground, landing on one foot and spinning in a mock pirouette and bowed.

"As my Listener commands, humble Cicero lives to serve.." he said, the underlying message not lost on her. She may not be quite as able to blush as she could when she was human, but that didn't mean her face couldn't flood with the memory of heat. So she didn't say anything in response, she feared she would only stutter.

Cicero made a point to un-steak the tent and move it closer to the wagon, forever the worrying and loyal servant to his Unholy Matron. He fixed it so the opening was facing the wagon and fussed with it a few moments more before he seemed satisfied. Together they moved the bedrolls back under the hide tent, situating it how it was before he disrupted it.

"There now, after you dear Listener." He gestured open-palmed to the tent, bowing to her as she walked passed him and crawled into the tent. She could hear him giggling to himself behind her, and soon she could feel the warmth of him next to her as he crawled in and made himself comfortable.

"Ooh isn't this cozy, just Cicero and the Listener all snuggled up for beddy-by!"

She stifled a laugh and turned her back to him, curling under the soft furs and closing her eyes tightly. She could feel the heat of his arm as it pressed against her back, and she knew she should want him to move away but she didn't mind. It had been so long since she had felt so comfortable with anyone other than her twin, how odd that she would feel this amount of trust for a manic assassin in a jesters motley, and only after a few days of knowing him.

"Goodnight, Keeper." She whispered and the title felt new but right on her tongue.

She could practically hear the grin on his face.

"Goodnight, Listener."

When morning broke and the sun began to flit through the opening of the tent, Mirilla scrunched her nose and buried her face in her warm pillow to avoid the light sting on her face. She curled around it tighter and sighed in contentment, she knew that she should awaken but she was just too comfortable at the moment to do so. She didn't notice that her pillow wasn't supposed to be warm, she just enjoyed it and tried to drift back to sleep for a little longer.

Then an odd thing happened, her pillow moved and began to chuckle softly, breath hot against the crown of her head.

"So you awaken." Cicero's voice did not sound foggy in the slightest, it made her wonder if he even slept. It was not as high-pitched as it normally was and it had a warmth to it that she hadn't heard from him before.

"Does the Listener know that she clings like a baby monkey in her sleep?"

She tilted her head nervously and opened one eye, and she saw that her pillow was Cicero's chest and she was indeed wrapped around him like a baby monkey. She lifted her arm from his waist and her leg from where it trapped both of his and sat up, tucking her hair behind her left ear. As she moved she could feel his arm sliding down from her shoulder to her hip She hadn't noticed he was holding her too.

"I apologize, I didn't know I would do that in my sleep.." she gave him a bashful smile and met his eyes. He was grinning of course, but it wasn't his usual mad grin that stretched from ear to ear. It was more playful, and she could see the amusement dancing in his amber eyes.

"No trouble at all, dear Listener. I don't mind.."

His arm came up from where it rested on her hip and toward her face, hand reaching like he wanted to touch her. He made a humming noise and his fingers lightly grazed her left cheek, her brow quirked and she let a small smile grace her lips.

She was rarely touched as she grew up, preferring to keep to herself and practice with her bow while her sweet sister mastered magicks. Mirilla never really minded though, but now in this small space with this mad Imperial man, she felt the longing for touch as she never had before. It truly was beginning to boggle her mind how close she had already come to feel to him, but she trusted him so much already. Perhaps it had to do with how the Night Mother had stepped into her mind, the bits she had learned of Cicero and the Keepers position most likely was the enabler of these feelings.

As if to try and convey this feeling to him, she gently grabbed his warm hand in her own and brought it to her cheek, letting him know that he could touch her.

Cicero let out a pleased noise and his velvety gloved thumb stroked along her cheekbone, fingers carding through her light brown hair. He sat up along with her, his other hand coming up to tilt her chin so she would meet his gaze.

"The Listener has pointy little ears, and here Cicero thought you were an Imperial. Foolish indeed...Dear Mirilla is far too short, she is clearly a Breton..." He tutted to himself and his fingers ghosted over the tip of her ear and she closed her eyes and leaned forward into his touch, not caring that the situation seemed to be becoming less-than chaste by the second. She couldn't deny she enjoyed the feeling of his velvety touch on her cool skin.

Mirilla could feel the heat of his breath fanning against her cheek she and opened her eyes, her lips parting and her look was that of longing.

"Lovely Miri...should not make such an expression, Cicero will not be able to help himself." He murmured and his voice sent a thrill through her, as did the way he playfully shortened her name. Mirilla leaned forward more until her lips nearly brushed his, and she could feel that the hands cupping her cheeks were slightly shaky. Their noses bumped as she leaned in closer and she felt lost in his gaze, unable to look away.

"Is the Listener hungry?" He asked suddenly in a low and curious voice, eyes searching hers in wonder as she pulled back slightly in confusion.

"Why do you ask?"

A hand moved down her cheek, and he teased a trail from her jaw to her neck and it made her eyes close once more and her body tremble. His pleased hum was right in her ear, she hadn't even realized he had moved, but his lips touched the pointed tip of her ear as he chuckled mischievously against her.

"Because your eyes are glowing, my sweet Listener."


	3. Chapter 3

"What?"

Cicero pinched the tip of Mirilla's ear and snickered when she gasped.

"The Listeners eyes are bright and shiny gold! Cicero knows it means that you feel the _hunger_." His voice curled darkly around the word, grin curling up around it as if the thought gave him pleasure.

"Cicero could go get his Listener something to eat if she pleases, a young man perhaps? Ooh Cicero can make sure he is feisty and strong so he will no doubt please the Listener!!" He sounded giddy and eager and it confused her that he would be so ready to bring an innocent person for her to eat, but as she took a moment to think about it she realized it shouldn't surprise her. He was an assassin, a true killer who would no doubt delight in giving a life to Sithis in any form.

The truth of this did not bother her, it was the hunger bleeding from her own eyes that had her fearing for her Keeper.

She wanted to drain him days before and thought that the urge had passed, but now her throat burned and she wondered if that was the reason her eyes betrayed her as they were getting closer. Mirilla put a hand over her mouth and quickly crawled from the tent, a surprised and confused Cicero scrambling after her.

"By the gods, I am so sorry Cicero. I wasn't going to..I mean I didn't realize.." she tried to find the right words to explain, cursing how new she was still so new to the thirst. She blatantly ignored how the morning sun almost sizzled on her skin, an unpleasant side effect of not feeding.

Cicero chuckled and circled around her until she and he were facing one another, his hands grabbed hers and playfully swung their arms together in the space between them.

"Listener mustn't fret about such things! Cicero doesn't mind in the least, he would do anything for his Listener including giving his own blood!" He said it so theatrically that at first, she thought he was jesting but then she realized that he was completely serious. His bright amber eyes upon hers were so adoring and truthful it made her throat constrict tightly.

"T-truly?" She found herself whispering.

"Of course, of course! Your Keeper is here to keep you safe and happy just as he keeps our sweet Mother, Mirilla mustn't worry, Cicero will take care of you in all things, be they horribly _gruesome_ or just the opposite!" His voice pitched higher and lower, was so animated and entertaining that she found herself smiling widely by the time he finished speaking, she lowered her head and bumped her forehead against his chest.

"Thank you, my Keeper." She murmured against the velvety fabric of his motley.

Cicero was practically vibrating with joy, she could tell he was trying to resist bouncing about as he laughed happily and loudly. Her heart attempted to flutter happily in her chest, but it was more of a slow roll beneath her ribs. Being near Cicero was becoming a constant and welcome comfort to her, and she didn't question it this time.

"I am rather famished..it's been several days."

Cicero gasped dramatically and let go of her hands to cup her cheeks instead, lifting her head to have her look at him.

"Poor Listener is _starving_! How could I let this happen? Oooh this won't do at all, nonono!" He frantically tugged her along with him as he went back to the tent.

"W-what- Cicero what are you doing?" She went with him and obliged as he waved his hands about, impatiently gesturing for her to sit. When his hands stopped flailing and went to remove his right glove and rolled his sleeve up to his elbow Mirilla was immediately aware of what he had in mind.

"Oh Keeper you don't have to- I mean I am sure I can find someone-"

"Cicero isn't about to let his Listener drink from some smelly street beggar! Not a chance, she may take from Cicero instead until he can find something more suitable." He presented her with his arm, brows furrowed in concentration as he waited for her to take it. When she didn't budge he tutted disapprovingly and scooted a little closer, his other hand gently going to the back of her neck and coaxing her forward until her mouth was inches from his skin.

"Well go on Listener, Cicero is not afraid." He urged, voice soothing and accepting, smile wide and unyielding. She gave him an uncertain look but found her hands already wrapping around his forearm. The scent of his skin filling her nose as she lowered her lips to his wrist, she felt something glazing over her mind and for a moment all she could think of was the delicious blood that awaited her. Her tongue trailed along the skin of his wrist and Cicero sucked in a breath, not long after her fangs dropped and were buried deep in his skin.

Hot blood caressed her tongue and wetted her parched throat, it flooded into her in the most delicious way and she couldn't help but groan in relief around his wrist. Her grip on his arm was like a vice, bruising the skin under her fingers but he didn't flinch or move away, he simply cooed and ran his gloved fingers through her soft hair, soothing her as she fed from him. She continued to drink indulgently even as she felt him sway into her, resting his chin heavily on her shoulder and chuckling weakly.

"Listener is so greedy.." his voice was amused but had a slight whine to it, the sound pulled her out of her haze and she gasped in alarm, letting his wrist go and grasping his shoulders. She hadn't even realized she drank from him for so long and she knew she took to much, cursing herself she let out a horrified sob.

"Divines, I didn't mean to take so much... Oh I'm so sorry, are you alright?"

Blood wept from the small punctures in his wrist as he let his armrest in her lap, staining her tan linen skirts, he chuckled and pressed his nose into her fluffy hair, breathing in her subtle scent.

"Nonsense Listener, I'm always eager to please.." his puffs of laughter were warm and pleasant on her neck. "But Cicero's body does feel a tad bit heavier now.." he grumbled.

She shook her head and smoothed her hand through his red hair, frowning with concern and shame. Mirilla was thankful that she did not lose herself completely in him, but the threat was there and she knew she needed to discipline herself harder in the future- if he ever offered himself to her again.

"I hurt you... I'm such a fool." She whispered and Cicero pulled his body up, pushing his legs out on either side of her and falling back on his butt, he gave her a tired scowl and nudged her knee with his foot.

"Cicero is the only fool here, Listener."

She didn't agree but refrained from arguing and instead took his hand with the intention to bandage him up. Mirilla grabbed a clean cloth from her pack and gingerly wrapped up his wound, all the while the jester giggled happily and teasing her about her 'unnecessary' attentiveness. She could tell he was lightheaded and refused to let him exit the tent without her assistance. Once they were on their feet she let go of him and grabbed an apple from her satchel for him to eat, he took it with a put-upon sigh but ate it dutifully nonetheless.

They packed up camp after that, re-strapping the rolled up tent to the railing of the wagon and preparing for departure. Mirilla fetched the horse from the stable as Cicero went to the stablehand to pay him, and she was sad to notice the jester was a bit heavy on his feet due to her feeding. While he was gone, Mirilla took a moment to change out of her bloodied skirts. She slipped on a thicker spare skirt underneath before she pulled the dirty ones off and folded them up to set them in her pack.

When he returned to her she stepped up to him, hand reaching out and grasping a handful of his velvety shirt. She kept her gaze lowered in guilt and leaned forward into him, burying her head against his chest.

"You ok?" She asked tentatively.

Cicero looked down at her in surprise, his smile slowly spreading as he pressed his cheek against the top of her head. He giggled and made an 'aww' sound and squeezed her against him, strong arms curled around her waist and pulled her up until she was on her toes.

"So kind the Listener is, to worry so much about me. But Cicero is right as rain, truly!"

Mirilla peeked up at him and couldn't help but smile back, Cicero loosened his hold on her and she pulled away slightly. She gently grabbed his hand, avoiding the injured wrist and gave it a squeeze.

"Let us be off then, Mother is surely tired of the road."

Cicero nodded vigorously and hopped quickly onto the wagon, dragging her merrily with him and they continued their journey to Falkreath. Cicero happily sang as he steered the mare down the road, and it did not go unnoticed by Mirilla that he still held her hand.

 

They rode for the better half of the day, the sun was slowly on its descent down when they pulled up to the gates of Falkreath. Cicero did not really want to go through the city but he argued with himself on how it was a safer pathway for Mother to be taken upon. Mirilla propped her elbow on her knee and her chin on her palm as she watched him squabble with himself until finally, he snapped the reins, encouraging his horse to walk the rest of the way through the gates and into the city.

Halfway through the city Mirilla's ruby eyes landed on a courier quickly walking down the path toward them, and she hopped off of the carriage without a word to her Keeper to cut the boy off before he had a chance to elude her. She needed to get word to her sister about her change of plans, knowing that she would worry that Mirilla may have been in danger since she did not arrive as scheduled. She wished she had thought of it sooner but she was quite distracted.

“Listener?!” she heard Cicero's high-pitched squawk and looked over her shoulder to wave at him to wait a moment. The boy nearly rushed passed her before she could get a hand on him, but she halted him in his tracks.

“I need a message delivered.” she said immediately when the boys head snapped up to look at her in alarm. He took one look into her red eyes and the blood seemed to drain from his face, which she was silently amused by. She held up a finger and pulled out an empty scroll that stuck out from his pack and asked him to give her a sharpened and wrapped shard of coal. His fingers trembled as he held out the writing utensil for her use and she smirked, taking it from him and using the wall of the Jarls Longhouse to write out her message. Once she was done she rolled it up and thrust it into the frightened courier's hands.

“Get this to Emery Motierre, she lives in Whiterun. Do NOT fail, or I will know.” She ordered, and the boy nodded frantically and ran off without a word. She watched him with narrowed eyes until he was out of sight before relaxing and letting out a laugh on the boys behalf.

“Well Cicero hopes the Listener is done with scaring passing courier boys and we may now continue home?” Cicero's tone was scolding as she walked back to him and climbed up into the carriage next to him once more. She let out a sigh and folded her hands in her lap before looking over at him, eyes bright and clearly still amused by the frightened courier and her clever jester could tell.

“I am indeed, for now.” Mirilla smiled and Cicero barked out a loud laugh as he cracked the reins, urging on his horse to carry them home. She was glad that the jester beside her wasn't one to pry into her personal life, though he soaked up anything she offered about herself like a sponge. Mirilla knew that if and when he gave her anything about himself that she would treasure anything he told her, but she would give him the same courtesy he gave her and wait.

The city of Falkreath did not take any more than 10 minutes to ride through at an inconspicuous pace and they were soon surrounded by the autumn flavored forests that filled the hold, passing the main road up for one seemingly less traveled. Cicero hopped from his seat and grabbed his sorrel mare by the bridle to carefully lead her down the rugged path, it wound down and spilled out into a small black pond surrounded by thick trees and fauna.

“Here we are Mother, finally.” Cicero's voice sounded thick with relief and perhaps a bit of apprehension, Mirilla did not know much of this sanctuary but she hoped Cicero and the Night Mother might find a bit of peace here after all their struggles.

Mirilla took a breath and filled her void lungs with courage, and stepped off of the carriage and approached the door that held her new life within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who is reading my little story, hope you like it so far!


	4. Chapter 4

The door seemed to bleed a haunting sanguine light from all around it, and Mirilla could swear she heard faint whispers creeping into her mind with each step she took closer. Curiosity lit within her eyes, they darkened into a color that resembled coagulated blood as she stepped into the shrouded tunnel. As she walked she kept them focused on the intricacies that were etched and painted upon the ancient looking door, marveling at their haunting beauty.

Cicero was practically doing somersaults in his excitement, laughing merrily and capering right up to the door and leaving his apprehension in the dust that kicked up after his feet.

"Oh ho ho, he he he!!! Cicero is sooo very excited! Finally we have arrived, sweet Mother will, at last, be able to rest safely and soundly!"

Mirilla watched as he stopped a couple feet from the door as if he was waiting for something. She tilted her head slightly and listened amongst the ghostly whispers in her mind for anything that would stick out to her, her brows furrowed slowly as she waited.

"What is the music...of life?" A sinister voice sounded from nowhere and everywhere at once, it resonated eerily through her and sent an excited rush up her spine.

"Silence, my brother." Cicero responded automatically.

"Welcome..home..." it whispered darkly and the door opened a crack, Cicero turned to her and grinned.

"Cicero will take care of getting our sweet Mother inside, can the Listener hold the door open?"

Mirilla's head tilted in confusion for a moment, wondering how in Nirn Cicero was going to move the Night Mothers coffin, it looked like it weighed a ton. But she simply nodded and did as he asked, watching as he stepped a bit closer to the wagon.

She didn't understand what he meant to do when his hands lifted and his fingers curled toward the large crate that surrounded and protected the ancient coffin, then she was surprised to see the crate become shrouded in a warped dark light and rise from the cart. The same dark light emitted from his hands as he slowly beckoned the coffin towards them, being careful not to bump the outside on any surfaces. He must know and have a fair grasp of Alteration magic to be able to exude such easy control over the spell he used. She wasn't as familiar with magic as her sister but she knew a telekinesis spell when she saw one, and it really made sense that he would because how else could he move that coffin around by himself?

An amusing thought crossed her mind of Cicero simply picking the Night Mothers coffin up with his bare hands as if it were nothing and hauling it about. She stifled a chuckle and moved to the side as the coffin floated past her and into the corridor of the sanctuary. Cicero's concentrated expression caught and held her eye, the hard line of his jaw and the unusual downward tilt in his brow, his expressions were often so overly jovial she had a hard time imagining any other look on him.

"Come along Listener! Come meet our new family!" Cicero jerked his head a couple times signaling for her to follow, she snapped herself from her thoughts and stepped after him and they descended a short and lightless stairwell. She heard the heavy sound of stone grating on stone as the door closed itself uptight, and was curious how the door spoke and worked with no one physically manning it. Perhaps it was a curse or an enchantment, but for now, it would have to remain a mystery to her.

As they made their way further in, laughing could be heard echoing throughout the sanctuary along with indistinct voices muddled by distance. Mirilla braced herself, she couldn't help but feel apprehensive as they approached this group of highly trained assassins, she wasn't sure how informed they were about their arrival and hoped their presence would not be ill-met.

It crossed her mind as they walked that perhaps she should have taken their time on the road to learning more about the brotherhood and their intricacies, it would have done her well but it just did not cross her or apparently Cicero's mind. Well, she would have time to learn from him, and her soon to be brothers and sisters as well she hoped. The apparent leader of the sanctuary was surprised and on her guard, but Cicero announced who he was and they Nord woman relaxed a bit, they talked and Mirilla assumed he must have sent her a letter telling of his intentions.

They are led down another flight of stairs and that's when she notices Cicero's arms trembling slightly with effort, his mana must be depleting from keeping the Night Mother up this whole time. She stared after him with more than a little interest, and she thinks she will ask him more about himself once they are settled. She only hoped he will give her at least somewhat straight answers, however unlikely that may seem.

The diligent Keeper is finally able to set the crated coffin down temporarily when they enter the main cavern, he huffs in relief and grins at Mirilla and gives her a sly wink like he knew she was watching him. She doesn't let herself smile at him as widely as she wished she could, instead she turned her gaze over to meet with several pairs of unacquainted eyes.

The rest of the members came closer, circling around them so she and Cicero's backs were to the Night Mother and a small pond. With the whole sanctuary gathered around them, Mirilla could see their reactions more clearly; a couple eyeing them suspiciously while the others seemed more curious than anything. She keeps close to Cicero, feeling the urge to reach out for his hand or his sleeve, just familiar contact in this den full of strangers.

Mirilla didn't care to consider the fact that some of these new brothers and sisters may think her odd for sticking so close to the jester if they even noticed or cared.

She noted the narrowing of her Keepers eyes and the uncomfortable shift in his posture as the sanctuary leader, Astrid, fills him in on how things 'work around here'. His excitement from earlier deflates noticeably though his smile had never left his face, so she does reach out to discreetly grasp the hem of his tunic in hopes that he feels comforted. It seemed a bit off to her as well even though her knowledge is limited, she knows that Astrid cannot claim complete control since she is not the one who speaks for their Unholy Matron, but Cicero plays along so she does the same.

When Astrid's attention was finally on her and no longer occupied with making sure Cicero knows his 'place', she unconsciously stands a little closer to the jester and her hand tightens in the velvety fabric still in her grasp. She knows he notices.

"And who might this be? There was no mention of a sister traveling along with you in your letter, Keeper. Unless perhaps you simply failed to add it in that another member survived from Cheydenhal.." She addressed Cicero but her icy eyes were narrow and unkind as she looked Mirilla over.

Mirilla was unthreatened by the look but she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd do well to be...polite.

For now.

"My name is Mirilla, I've only recently...joined." She said, offering the Nord a somewhat friendly smile. Cicero suddenly laughed and his manic grin was focused solely on her, causing her lips to twitch upward.

She wished he wouldn't look at her like that when she was trying to look professional, it was hard not to smile at the splendid fool.

"Dear sweet Mirilla fails to mention one very important detail." He tutted, his voice teasing and finger wagging out in front of her nose, and though she felt like it wouldn't be well received she still knew it must be said.

"The Night Mother has spoken, and chosen me as her Listener.." She calmed the mirth that welled in response to Cicero's behavior, and her words fell from her lips clear and confident with no room for anything but the truth of it.

Astrid's eyes widened and Mirilla could see the horror, the disbelief there. A few of the members spoke up, and there was a bit of a ruckus that was accompanied by Cicero's mad laughter.

"That's preposterous, there hasn't been a Listener in-"

"I know, but the Keeper himself seems to have verified-"

"This is wonderful, finally a step back towards tradition."

So many voices, so many opinions to be heard but Mirilla was silent, and so was Astrid as the others spoke. Cicero laughed and danced merrily in his place, trying to assure the brothers and sisters before them that everything was true and that things were sure to change for the better.

Finally, after glaring holes in Mirilla, Cicero and the Mothers coffin behind her, Astrid spoke.

"Alright, so you're the Listener. Of course, you and the Keeper are most welcome here." She started and the words sounded like they were forced from her throat.

"So long as you both keep in mind who's in charge." Astrid added, eyes looking like they were trying to set the wooden crate behind them on fire.

Cicero stopped his flouncing right next to Mirilla, his eyes darkened slightly as he regarded Astrid and he no doubt noticed the blasphemy in the Nords eyes as they drifted toward the Mothers resting place.

"Of courseee, you're the boss." He drawled, a tad exaggerated to her ears but Astrid seemed either not to notice or care. The woman simply nodded and stalked off, heading in the direction that they came in. Mirilla watched as she left one of the brothers followed; and older looking Nord with long white hair and a glowering expression.

"Keeper.." Mirilla whispered, her voice low for his ears only, or so she hoped. He leaned over to her immediately, eyes searching hers as he awaited her next words.

"I believe there are many things I must learn...and quickly."

His expression towards her then was perhaps the sanest she had seen in him yet; his smile was no more than an upward quirk of his lips and his eyes bore into hers deadly serious.

"You will learn then, my Listener."

 

Later that day, after Cicero found his preferred place for the Night Mother and everything had settled down, Mirilla found herself sitting quietly in the room with her Keeper and the Mother as he fussed about. She smiled with a fondness and watched him as he babbled to himself, and let the new home and family surrounding her sink in. She hadn't the chance to really speak to any of them or learn anything new yet but she was feeling a touch nervous as to how the next few days settling in here would play out.

She couldn't help but think that the tension from earlier was just the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally a bit more interaction with some other members of the Brotherhood, and Mirilla learns some new things.

Though it was awkward at first, Mirilla soon discovered that the other members were actually quite welcoming of her. They all wanted a chance to speak and for the majority had only encouraging and kind things to say. But what turned her mood sour was how they seemed to regard her Keeper, none of them seemed to enjoy his...quirks.

She supposed she shouldn't let it get to her though; the Keeper certainly came off as eccentric to say the least, even though it felt quite difficult not to. She found herself feeling quite defensive of him when her newly acquired brothers or sisters disrespected him behind his back.

The man himself had been locked in what was now the Night Mothers resting place for hours, cleaning and caring for her. He had gone on about oiling 'all the hard to reach places' and she wondered if it was some sort of ritual. She had offered to help but Cicero said it was the Keepers duty and thought it best not to argue.

Mirilla was shown to a room, it was simple and dimly lit and suited her well enough. She set her pack down on the dresser and walked around toward the bed, flopping tiredly on her back and peering up at the ceiling. When a small knock sounded from her door, she sat up and looked at it in confusion.

"Um..come in?"

The door opened and revealed the 'un-child' as Cicero called her, she hadn't spoken with her once and so her sudden presence was surprising. Mirilla did not know too much of her own kind but she knew of stories from books in her fathers' library and wondered if she was a true and pure daughter of Lamae Bal. It would be interesting but she was hesitant to ask, her turning could also be much like Mirilla's, and that was not a fond memory for her.

"Oh Babette, hello." She greeted and stood, taking a few steps toward her and offering her a polite smile which the immortal child returned.

"Hello again, sister. I do hope you don't mind the intrusion, I know the trip here must have been tiring."

"Not at all." Mirilla said and gestured for to come inside and for them to have a seat at her small table.

"Forgive me for being so forward, but I couldn't help but notice that you and I share a gift." Babette began, crossing her leg and daintily placing her hands in her lap. Mirilla smiled once more, tucking her hair behind the subtle points of her ears and nodding in agreement.

"Yes, I noticed as well."

"I am pleased to have one of my own kind at the sanctuary once more, it has been so very long since I've met a fellow vampire that wasn't driven completely mad by the thirst." Babette smiled and her wise red eyes looked Mirilla over.

"I haven't met any others myself..." Mirilla admitted and Babette only nodded sagely as if it was expected.

"I do not wish to be rude sister, but pray tell me how the gift came to you. Despite how well you carry yourself I have seen the fresh and hungry look in your eyes."

Mirilla's smile faltered and she looked away from the girl, feeling naive for not expecting the girl to be so blunt as she recalled the memory in vivid detail. She resisted reacting to the disturbed shiver that trailed through her.

"I was sailing from High Rock, Daggerfall to be precise. The trip was long and dull, and I kept to my cabin most of my time on board." Mirilla began, shifting in her chair and wringing her hands in her skirts.

"One night after a month of sailing, I decided I wished to see the moons and the stars...I was always capable of defending myself so I believed if I ran into trouble it wouldn't be a problem...but I wasn't considering anything more than a drunken sailor coming after me for...well." She cleared her throat and Babette gestured for her to continue.

"Anyway, I was accosted and the man was...he wasn't in his right mind from what I could tell, and he was so very strong...he tried to drain me...Once I was free of him I ran to my cabin and didn't come out until we docked."

"And you were changed." Babette said, and Mirilla nodded.

"I believe I took to it well, after some initial grief. But it has still been only two months for me, and the thirst...it can be intense." Cicero was on her mind then, his bleeding wrist and trusting smile that made her chest feel tight.

"Well, you will no longer need to worry about such things my dear." Babette stood from her chair and gestured for her to follow. She led Mirilla down many hallways until they reached a large chamber and when they stepped inside she couldn't help her surprised gasp.

A torture chamber.

Across the chamber and against the wall was a man bound and gagged, he appeared to be sleeping or perhaps he was simply too weak to do anything but limply hang there. Babette walked over to him, her small hand lifting his chin up so he faced them.

"If you are unable to find the time to hunt, keep in mind that there will always be a meal here for you." Her deceptively innocent voice echoed in the chamber, and she dropped the man's chin and turned to exit with a nod of farewell.

Mirilla stared at the man, and she could feel her thirst building and burning her throat with need. It had been days since she first allowed herself to take from Cicero, and she had ignored her parched throat well enough until now. She looked at the man, a Dunmer with long gray hair and eyes like coals. They met hers and widened in fear as if he just now noticed her, and she felt her breath quicken with excitement, no doubt her eyes were aglow and her face framed with angry red veins. Without a second thought, she leaned down and placed a hand on the man's jaw, tilting his head to the side and sinking her teeth into him.

His scream sounded through the torture hammer with haunting clarity.

 

Mirilla made her way to the main cavern after she had sated her thirst, her feet stopping just short of the small but lovely pond in the center. Crouching down, she trailed her hands in the dark waters and failed to notice the presence behind her until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up she saw Gabriella standing next to her and giving her a curious smile.

"Oh sister, how can I help you?" Mirilla asked, taking her hand from the waters.

"Help me? No, I simply wished to talk for a spell." Her voice was rich and kind. Mirilla nodded and stood, wiping the wetness off on her thick skirt and turning to face Gabriella.

"Of course."

At that Gabriella stepped closer and locked their arms together companionably, smiling and pulling Mirilla along for a turn about the cavern.

"It is so wonderful to host the Night Mother here in our modest sanctuary, it appalls me that we do not have a worthier place for her. I do hope the Keeper can at least make it more presentable for her..."

Mirilla listened quietly and politely as the Dunmeri woman spoke, nodding and smiling but not saying much. They walked crossed the modest forge in which Arnbjorn usually occupied, and she nodded to Veezara where he sat on the ground as the passed him as well. She decided that Gabriella was someone she could grow to like, and perhaps one day become friends with her.

"Do tell me, how did you come across the Keeper? And how on Nirn did you manage to survive traveling with him alone for so long without going mad?" Gabriella laughed a bit and regarded Mirilla with her bright purple-red eyes. Mirilla frowned and unhooked their arms gently, turning away and watching as their Argonian brother began to spar with a training dummy from across the cavern.

"I was on my way to Whiterun after docking in Dawnstar, we met on the road and I assisted him. The Mother spoke to me then, and we decided to travel together." She answered simply.

Gabriella's gaze upon her was calculating, and Mirilla turned to meet it with her own.

"I see, well thank Sithis you happened upon him. It has been so very long since we have had a Listener, please expect my humble support in the future." Gabriella smiled.

"Thank you, and I expect you mean to include the Keeper as well?”

Gabriella's brows rose marginally and she could see the hint of discomfort shifting into her eyes, bright as the blood from a boysenberry squished between fingers.

"Of course, Listener. Forgive me, I mean no disrespect, he is simply a bit to...exuberant for my tastes but I shall show him the respect his position commands regardless." she assured.

Mirilla nodded but did not answer, and the Dunmer bid her farewell with a slight bow of her head and was on her way.

She turned to head toward her room when a hand once more was placed on her shoulder, she sighed and turned expecting to see another curious member of her new family. Instead, she was met with the warm honey-brown eyes of her Keeper, she could not contain the smile that bloomed on her lips.

"Are you ready to learn?" He asked, and she noticed he was not wearing his usual velvet gloves. His warm fingers brushed lightly against the cool bare skin of her neck, they felt soft and smelled vaguely of turpentine and something more floral, like lavender..

"Yes." She leaned toward him.

"Oh goody, now come and follow Cicero." He urged and spun on his heel, heading towards the private quarters.

She followed after him, eager to be in his familiar company once more. They stopped in front of his room, and he turned to look at her and gave her a considering look.

"Does the Listener mind if we go in here? Or if you prefer somewhere else, Cicero will go wherever the Listener wishes." He said and he seemed a little different than usual, more focused. She shook her head and moved past him and into his room, hearing him chuckle and follow after her.

His room was near the same as her own, only arranged a bit differently and with notebooks scattered all over the floor. She looked at him questioningly and he shrugged with an air of innocence, sitting on a stool in the center of the room. She did the same and smoothed out her skirt, looking up at him and awaiting the start of his lesson.

"First of all-" he started loudly, his voice almost uncomfortably shrill to her ears but when he spoke again it was lowered considerably.

"Everything here is wrong."

She nodded immediately in agreeance and he looked pleased, taking one of her hands that rested on her lap on his own. His hands were softer than she might have expected from an assassin, they were large and quite gentle as they held hers.

"The Listener noticed, of course! Cicero was worried that you might think that the harlot Astrid is right, but she is not. She is a pretender, a liar!"

Mirilla had a feeling he wanted to call her much worse.

"Why, the way she dared to look at you was blasphemous enough, but when she spoke to Cicero about Mother...oh ho ho she is lucky Cicero is very patient. I could have slit her throat for breaking the first Tenet and it would have been just." He was furious and nodding to himself at the thought, and Mirilla squeezed his hand to comfort him and to refocus his attention.

"Tenet?"

He looked at her in surprise an then laughed, nodding as his thumb began to stroke her palm.

"Yes dear Listener, the Tenets! There are five in all and they MUST be upheld, straying from them shall invoke the wrath of Sithis."

Cicero recited them for her, making sure she understood each one perfectly and completely. To her, they were simple and unhindering rules to follow, but it was clear that this sanctuary no longer followed them. He went on to explain the Dark Brotherhood hierarchy, about the Black Hand and how they all were supposed to work together.

It was fascinating, and she listened with rapt attention which no doubt pleased Cicero greatly as he animatedly and joyfully described every detail she asked of to her. They spoke for a couple hours until finally, she was satisfied with the knowledge she gained, and she stood from her stool in front of Cicero.

His ever-present grin widened when she stepped closer, standing in between his knees as she wrapped her arms around his neck, he made a loud pleased hum and returned the embrace from where he sat. She turned her face toward his warm neck and sighed, the stress and overwhelming feelings from the day melting away.

"Hehehe Listener that tickles!" He giggled and she laughed, pulling back and nearly laughing again at his responding pout. His hands fell to her hips and tugged her a bit toward him.

"Cicero didn't say he didn't like it." He grumbled and pouted his lower lip, Mirilla let her hands move to rest on his shoulders.

"Thank you, for teaching me so much and for...well-this." She looked between them and then back up to meet his gaze.

He opened his mouth to say something but did not get a chance to before a loud knock sounded at the door. He glared at the offending sound for a moment as Mirilla stepped quickly out of his reach.

"Yes? Come in, come in already!" He said loudly and impatiently, stamping his foot in annoyance.

It was Nazir, the Redguard whom Mirilla assumed must hold a position akin to Speaker. He looked surprised to see Mirilla when he entered the room and looked between them for a moment.

"Well now, this makes my job easier. I was sent to find you, Astrid wants to see you immediately." He said to her. "I went to your quarters first and you weren't there, figured I'd ask the foo- I mean _you_ -" he motioned quickly to Cicero. "-where she might be."

Cicero scowled unhappily at Nazir, clearly wanting to say something about this 'summoning' but he didn't. She knew now what he might have to say after all that he had taught her over the last couple of hours.

No one has the authority to order the Listener around save for the Unholy Matron herself.

"Of course." Mirilla nodded, turning to Cicero and giving his shoulder a squeeze before she left the room, feeling both pairs of eyes on her as she left.

She met Astrid near the entrance and stepped up to her, the Nord was sifting through some papers on her desk when Mirilla approached. Her cold eyes met with Mirilla's and the woman's frown deepened as she straightened her stance and crossed her arms.

"Ah good, I have a few contracts that require the attention of one of our own. Since I know nothing of you or how you work, I've decided you shall go and we will see how well you do."

Mirilla did not glare, really, but she couldn't hide the look in her eyes and Astrid noticed and responded with her own challenging stare.

This new relationship was going to be...difficult.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirilla takes care of her contracts.

Mirilla found herself with a small stack of contracts by the time she was done speaking with Astrid. She sighed heavily and made her way back to her room, forgetting that she had told Cicero she would return to his.

She lay on her bed face down, head against the soft furs as she sighed in irritation. She let her eyes close as she thought of each of the contracts, going over each detail thoroughly.

When she opened her eyes next she hadn't realized she drifted off and had no idea how long she was out. She sighed loudly and rolled over, rubbing her eyes tiredly and sat up. She looked down at her attire and for the first time realized she should probably go and find something more appropriate for missions, like the tight black and red leather gear she noticed a few of family members wearing.

But Mirilla was never really one for tight leathers, despite her prowess with bows and daggers she felt the armor didn't suit her. She much preferred something lighter and simpler, so she went to her pack instead and pulled out her other outfit.

It was a soft cotton shirt with a deep scoop neck that tied at the collar, with equally soft tan breeches and a belt with pouches for poisons and extra arrowheads. She took her skirt and blouse off and folded them neatly, placing them on the dresser and slipping into the fresh clothing. She pulled on her boots and gloves and slung her bow and quiver over her shoulder as well as fastening her dagger to her lower back on the belt. She was sure to grab a cloak as well to lessen the sting of the sun during the day.

Mirilla headed to the door once she was set and flung it open to see the velvet-gloved hand of her Keeper raised in front of her face.

"Oh Listener, Cicero was just about to knock! You forgot to return after speaking with that woman, Cicero was concerned." He grinned at her but his eyes seemed troubled, he took a step back to give her room to exit if she wished.

"You don't need to wait outside my door Cicero, you're always welcome to come in." Mirilla told him with a smile, and the troubled look in his eye changed into something warmer.

"Hehehe, as my Listener wishes." Cicero gave her a dramatic bow and Mirilla couldn't help but laugh, nor could she help the color that spread to her cheeks.

"Did you have need of me?" She asked as he straightened. He moved forward quickly and she tilted her head up slightly to look into his eyes, her own widening slightly.

"What did that dreadful woman want?" He asked quietly like he was concerned they were being eavesdropped upon. "Please tell me, Listener."

"She... gave me a few minor contracts to fulfill, to 'prove myself' I assume." Mirilla knew he would not take well to the news, and she watched as his nostrils flared and his brows furrowed in anger.

"The Listener cannot be sent on petty tasks, you have only to do as the Night Mother commands!"

He put up a fuss for another minute, growling about the gall of 'the harlot' and using one hand to represent Astrid while the other was a dagger and he repeatedly stabbed her, she could tell he was envisioning it vividly in his mind.

"I know, my Keeper. But they do not know me, and Astrid...well it doesn't look like she will accept my authority." Cicero guffawed and was about to raise more of a fuss before she shushed him. "I think it's best to leave it as it is, for now, they don't follow the Tenets. Perhaps once they get used to the idea of functioning like the actual Dark Brotherhood, then things will be as they should."

"Ugh...get used to-...fine" Cicero's frown was deep and he looked positively livid at the thought of leaving things as they are. "I will do as my Listener wishes, and ONLY as my Listener wishes. Cicero will NOT follow that pretender, and if she disrespects Mother again.." his tone was murderous and his meaning was clear. Mirilla nodded lifting a gloved hand to his cheek, her thumb caressing the lightly freckled skin.

"Thank you." She said, smiling. Her fingers trailed through his red locks as she dropped her hand from him.

He nodded, his pout fading away and replaced by his usual smile, dimpling cutely near the corners of his mouth.

Mirilla thought, not for the first time, that she loved his smile.

"I'll return as soon as I can." She promised, patting him on the arm as she passed instead of wrapping her arms around him like she wanted.

"Yes Listener! Loyal Cicero shall remain here."

Mirilla could feel it as his eyes watched her until she disappeared down the corridor.

It would take her no less than three days on foot to reach her first target, and that's if she sticks to the roads and doesn't run into trouble, so she made sure to stop by the dining area for some provisions before she left the sanctuary. Even though the mortal food could not keep her alive, she still wanted them with her for appearance sake. The trip for each contract would be long and tiresome alone and without a horse or a clever jester to keep her company.

Mirilla departed from the sanctuary soon after her stop to the dining room and set out on her journey to complete her first set of contracts. Despite the fact that they were more than likely going to be easy and not require much skill, Mirilla couldn't deny that she was excited.

Perhaps the Night Mother will be pleased with her and finally speak to her again.

She hadn't let herself think much about it, and thankfully Cicero did not pry but it concerned her that she hadn't heard that ethereal voice in her head for almost a week now.

It surprised her how much she longed to hear the Mother's voice when not long ago she knew next to nothing about Her existence. But long to hear Her she did, and she was sure Cicero was eager for her to finally say she has conversed with their Matron once again as well.

With a heavy sigh she let it fall from her mind, focusing on the road ahead.

Mirilla kept to the road and to herself, not bothering to converse with any fellow travelers. She made good time, drawing strength to her step and ignoring any weariness she may have begun to feel. She had to rest periodically during the day as the hot sun burned unpleasantly at her flesh, and she found herself considering finding a cure.

Sure she accepted undeath gracefully after she initially thought it over, but she couldn't deny she missed what she used to feel like a mortal. She loved the sun and her favorite taffys and simply being warm, as well as not constantly thirsting for blood. If she went too long without feeding then her body seemed to...decay.

A matter for another time. She thought to herself.

When she finally reached Ivarstead it was dusk, the night air feeling welcoming upon her skin as she crept through the small town. This would be her first kill for the Brotherhood, but not the first life she has ever taken. She felt confident and calm, making her way across a slow flowing river and over to an abandoned shack just in the edge of the town. She silently moved through the shack, the old wooden floor not making a sound beneath her.

When she rounded a wall and spotted him, he was settling down onto a bedroll, completely unguarded and unawares. She felt her lips curl in excitement, stepping silently closer until she was a foot away from him. She leaned closer, her lips by his ear and whispered darkly,

"Void take you."

His eyes snapped opened but before he could move Mirilla drew her blade and without hesitation she let it slip easily through the side of his throat, cutting off any call of help he might have made and turning them into surprised, desperate gurgles. Then he was silent.

She stared at him a moment longer, watching the blood spill from his neck and onto her dagger. After a moment a satisfied smile tugged at her lips and she pulled her blade from him, wiping the blood on his tattered tunic.

Mirilla stood and turned to leave, her hands trembled as she sheathed her dagger once more behind her back.

 _Yes_. She thought. _I can get used to this_.

Mirilla wasted no time leaving, suddenly even more eager to fulfill these contracts. Once she was a few miles from the town she pulled out the remaining two contracts and looked them over, not that she needed to but she wanted something to do with her hands. Her remaining marks were in Eastmarch outside of Windhelm and Dawnstar in The Pale. She took out her map, judging the distances and considering the fastest routes.

"Well...next is Windhelm I suppose."

She set off, taking the road north toward Windhelm. It would only take her around two days this time and she wanted to get there as fast as possible.

Mirilla vowed that once she was done with this next mark she was going to see about a horse, certain they would have some available in Windhelm.

"I've never ridden a horse before.." she mumbled to herself. It was never a need for her to learn to ride a horse back home; her family often traveled by carriage.

She frowned when she thought of home, of how she used to live. It was much different than now, and Mirilla found that she did not exactly miss her once comfortable life. The only thing she missed was her sister...and taffy.

She loved taffys...

Ugh. Why did undeath have to take the taste of sweets away from her?

 

Two days later Mirilla was within sight of the large gate that led into Windhelm. She didn't need to go inside the city; her mark resided just west down the river at a wood mill which was much more convenient.

This time she used her bow, lining up her shot perfectly and hitting him through the back of the head.

Mirilla whispered a praise to Sithis the moment her arrow took the man's life and hoped that the Dread Father would be pleased. He went down soundlessly, and she didn't spare him another glance as she left. The bow was much less personal, not giving her as much of a rush as the dagger had with Narfi, but it was bright and open in the daylight and she didn't want to risk anyone seeing her anywhere near Papius.

_On to the next._

 

True to her vow, Mirilla purchased a horse at the Windhelm stables shortly after her kill. It was a lovely cremello gelding, around seven years of age, or so the stable hand told her. He had a pink muzzle and bright, soulful eyes the color of Corn Flower. He didn't seem to dislike her much to her relief, usually animals either loved her or tried to kill her. Not that she blamed them most of the time for the latter.

She didn't mention her lack of riding knowledge, simply handed the horse master a pouch of gold and was on her way. It took some getting used to, but Mirilla had always been a quick learner and she was naturally graceful, unlike her clumsy elder sister.

Ah, the fond memories of Emery tripping and falling on her face were more than Mirilla could count. They brought a chuckle past her lips, and she hoped that one day she would actually get to see Emery again.

 

Her last mark was in Dawnstar, thankfully it did not take nearly as long to travel there as it would have on foot.

The target, Beitild, was the owner of the mines here in Dawnstar, and she seemed to spend a lot of time at the smelter, she was a bit trickier to get alone.

After some careful scouting, Mirilla found a decent spot to snipe from on the roof of a house. The town was small but it still hosted several guards that regularly patrolled the paths, she had to wait for the most opportune moment to let her arrow fly.

Once the guard on her target's side started heading down the road, Mirilla lined up her shot. She took a needless breath and released.

Before the screams of murder even started, she was already off the roof and down the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't go into much detail with them, but enough to reveal that Mirilla enjoys the kill ;]


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the 'brief vampirism' tag comes in.

Mirilla ended up being forced to take the road toward Morthal, she did not want to deal with a frost troll right now and one was just sitting there stupidly in the road and blocking her fastest route home.

Well at least Morthal didn't seem like a terribly long ride if she kept close to the sea, she could make it by nightfall and find herself hopefully someone _not_ homeless and malnourished to eat, but that was probably the most likely of outcomes unless she cared to be extra sneaky.

It took nearly the rest of the day making her way along the shore of the Sea of Ghosts before she finally spotted the small city of Morthal. She steered her gelding around the icy marshes and kept him on the road, riding into the city not long after.

Mirilla dismounted and walked her gelding toward the inn, passing by an angry man outside the Jarl's longhouse arguing with a guard about...well she didn't really care. Something about wizards, she wasn't sure and it sounded like it wasn't the first time for the argument, but the matter did not concern her so she did not linger.

She reached the inn and tied her horse, who she decided to name Áleifr, to the post just outside the inn, making sure to give him a comfortable amount of slack.

"I won't be gone too long, Áleifr." She said softly, petting his pink nose. The gelding simply looked at her and nudged against her hand.

With a pleased smile Mirilla headed up the stairs and into the inn, walking over to the bar and taking a seat. It was rather late in the evening so she was sure she would be able to sneak up on some unsuspecting patron for a bite. The bartender paid her no mind, seemingly distracted, so she took the time to look around to see who her potential meal could be out of the few people around her.

"Is there something you are looking for?" A harsh voice asked to her right, she turned around quickly to see a scowling Redguard in a mage's robe had taken the stool next to her.

"Simply passing through, I have never been here before so I was having a look around." She answered politely, giving him a small but charming smile.

His frown only deepened and he leaned in a fraction closer.

"I know what you are, night stalker. I suggest you refrain from flashing those eyes around here, Morthal has had enough problems with vampires already, and I'm certain the people here wouldn't take to kindly to discover yet another has come."

Mirilla's expression hardened, her eyes shown like blood in the dim light of the inn. She sat up a little straighter and nodded, moving to stand up and leave.

"Wait!" He cried in a harsh whisper, hand reaching out in front of her to halt her movements. Her glare toward him was deadly, and she smelled the fear spike on him.

"Let me pass."

"I will but-If...you're interested, I have a solution to your uhm..affliction." He offered, voice low and slightly shaky.

She paused, brows furrowing as she looked him in the eyes.

"You can cure this? Truly?" She couldn't help but ask.

The Redguard nodded and gestured for her to follow him into the room just beside the bar. Mirilla hesitated for a moment, unsure, but her feet moved and carried her along after him. When she entered, he closed the door behind her and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking at him expectantly.

"Though the main vampire threat is gone now thanks to the help of the Dragonborn, it never hurts to be prepared for the cure." He paused, looking her over. "The name is Falion, by the way." He said, untying a pouch from his hip and holding it out to her.

"The..Dragonborn was here recently?" She asked. Mirilla was, of course, curious about her sisters' deeds over the last several months, she hoped her letter got to her and eased her worries.

She took the pouch from him and held it in her hands, it felt oddly heavy and whatever was in it was hard as stone.

"It's been a couple moon-turns, but yes. Why do you ask?"

Mirilla shook her head in dismissal and the Redguard nodded. She untied the pouch and dumped the contents into her other hand, it turned out to be a full and glowing black soul gem. She frowned and looked up at him, confused.

"This will cure me?" She asked skeptically, weighing the gem in her hand and turning it over to look into its black crystalline depths.

"Not that alone, but I know a ritual that requires a full black soul gem that will bring life back to your body." He sounded confident and sure, so Mirilla nodded and peered back at the gem.

"Alright...cure me then." Her voice was above a whisper, and she felt the gem thrum in her palm.

 

Falion took her to the ritual site not long after their brief discussion, he said that it would be a short ritual and it shouldn't harm her in any way. He told her that the ritual had to be performed between 4 and 6 in the morning, and luckily for her, it was nearly time.

She wasn't sure why she decided to trust him, but something about his words rang true to her, so she followed that feeling. When they reached the summoning stones it was within the appropriate time, and Falion had her stand in the center.

"Are you ready?" He asked, watching her intently.

"Let's get this over with.." she answered, holding the black soul gem in her hands in front of her chest.

Falion nodded and rose his hands high and began to chant;

 _"I call upon Oblivion Realms, the home of those who are not our ancestors._  
Answer my plea! As in death there is new life, in Oblivion there is a beginning for that which has ended.  
I call forth that power!  
Accept the soul that we offer! "

Mirilla began to feel nauseated and pain seized her heart like a dark shroud was gripping it with deadly claws. She swayed on her feet, feeling that darkness clinging to her soul being torn away as he continued to chant.

_"As the sun ends the night, end the darkness of this soul, return life to the creature you see before you!"_

She gasped and suddenly there was air filling her lungs, her heart thudded to life and pounded rapidly in her chest. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh from the chill in the air, a chill which she hadn't properly felt in months.

"Divines.." she breathed heavily, her hand dropping the now empty soul gem and pressing against her heart to feel the beating under her palm.

"The ritual is complete." Falion said, a proud look on his face as he watched her.

"I...thank you. I have to say I didn't expect this at all.." she looked down at her hands, the skin was tinted pink instead of bloodless gray, and she smiled up at Falion gratefully. He looked her over and she assumed he was just making sure everything was as it should be.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, his tone clinical.

"I feel like I am starving." She laughed and the old Redguard nodded, gesturing for her to follow him back to town.

Back at the inn, Falion paid for her dinner and she ate a ridiculous amount of bread and soup until she was full to bursting.

Mirilla noticed his eyes linger curiously on her face, and she wondered what he saw there now. Her eyes were no longer red and she could tell her hair had brightened with life, but perhaps he noticed the resemblance between her and her sister; that is if he even laid eyes on the woman. Or perhaps he thought she was pretty, though it mattered not.

She didn't ask and he kept his thoughts to himself, deciding to order a mug of ale for himself as she ate.

She thanked him heartily and was on her way, still a bit dumbfounded by the somewhat foreign feeling of her heartbeat as she exited the inn. She pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders and untied Áleifr, mounting him and finally heading toward home.


	8. Chapter 8

With a dreamy smile she found herself purchasing a small arsenal of taffys from the innkeeper and hoarding them in her pack. She headed out of a roadside inn that was just within the borders of Falkreath Hold.

The sun shone upon her skin, warming it and caressing it in a way she wasn't sure she would ever feel again. Her skin was naturally fair so she was sure to burn but she found that she did not care, she would have Festus or Babette heal her later. As she rode at a languid pace down the trail south of Morthal, she couldn't help but take her time and enjoy the afternoon suns rays. She dug around in her side pocket and pulled out a piece of pink taffy that she bought before she left, taking a bite and nearly squealing with delight.

How could she have been content with death, especially when sweets and sunlight are so amazing?

 

It took her several days to get to Falkreath, mostly because she couldn't stop herself from taking it slow and enjoying the daytime. She hunted, field dressed and butchered a couple rabbits and pheasants that lasted her the entire trip and picked wild snowberries to carry around in a pouch for a snack. By the time she was heading down the path to the sanctuary she noticed the red tint on her pale arms and laughed; sunburn!

It was wonderful. And itchy.

She couldn't wait to show Cicero.

When her Keeper came to her mind she realized how her heart could jump with excitement in a way that wasn't possible when she had been a vampire. The feeling startled her, it was like butterflies fluttering around inside her chest. She giggled to herself as she dismounted Áleifr, leading him down the path toward the sanctuary.

She wondered how much more intense a kill would be with this new life coursing through her. Blood running hot in her veins, fueled by adrenaline and the thrill of a fresh kill in the name of Sithis...she could hardly wait for her next contract.

When she reached the slight nook where the sanctuary door was hidden, it was well into the afternoon and she could tell she was quite nervous. She looked at the door for a moment and then she turned to Áleifr, stroking his jaw and smiling fondly at him.

"You won't stray too far, I trust?"

The gelding made a soft sound and she released him, watching as he ducked his head and began to graze upon the grass at their feet. With a shrug she turned and headed up to the door, answering the passphrase and finally stepping foot inside.

Mirilla sighed and leaned back against the door, closing her eyes and letting the cool air of home calm her nerves.

"Ah you have returned, I thought I heard someone enter." Astrid's voice sounded from down the stairs. The Nord moved away from the small corridor and out of sight immediately after she spoke.

Mirilla opened her eyes and quickly straightened, giving Astrid a nod of greeting once she stepped off the stairs and saw her at her desk.

"Greetings, sister." She said, moving past her, and Astrid waved a hand but did not look up from her desk again.

When Mirilla reached the large cavern at the bottom of the second flight of stairs, she immediately spotted Nazir and headed over to him. He noticed her as well and stood from his crouch by the pond, stepping over a Deathbell plant and meeting her halfway.

"Ah, sister, you have finally returned." He said, tone indicating he expected her back sooner.

"Yes, I got held up in Morthal and- well never mind. I've completed those contracts, Astrid told me that once I had them done I should report to you."

Nazir nodded and held out three pouches of coin, which she accepted quickly.

"There you are, and congratulations. You got rid of some worthless lowlifes." He deadpanned, and Mirilla just quirked a brow at him. He paused and stared at her for a moment too long, making her shift uncomfortably.

"You look different." He said, frowning but not really seeming to care as he shrugged and walked off toward the dining area.

Mirilla chuckled to herself and left the cavern, heading toward her bedroom to freshen up. She was certain she must smell like sweat and dirt now that she could actually sweat again. Her eyes searched for her jester as she walked through the halls, but she did not find him before she reached her room, much to her disappointment.

' _Well at least this way I'll be clean when I see him._ ' She thought, closing her door behind her and quickly stripping her dirty travel gear off.

She went over to her water basin and pumped the water handle on the wall, filling it up with fresh water to wash. She used a cloth with some honey-scented soap to wipe herself off, and once she was satisfied that her body was clean she started with her hair, washing it thoroughly with the honey soap.

She combed her fingers through it once she was done, catching knots here and there as she went. After she was satisfied her hair was no longer a rats nest, she wove it into a thick braid and let it rest between her shoulders.

Mirilla flopped bonelessly onto her bed once she was clean and dressed in a thin shift for sleep. She did certainly wish to seek out her brothers and sisters and see how they all have been in the two weeks she was gone, especially her Keeper, but her newly mortal body ached and sleep seemed to call to her.

Not even bothering to move her bed furs over her body, she let it pull her in, the world around her buzzing into nothingness as her mind and body drifted into sleep.

 

Faintly she was aware of someone whispering, and something soft like velvet touching her arm, it gradually pulled her out of her restful slumber and she grumbled in protest. She turned her head away from whatever it was that disturbed her and curled onto her side, vaguely noticing how her bed furs were now wrapped around her.

A warm chuckle from behind her caused her to roll back over, eyes still closed and her body feeling useless but her hand reached out to search for the source of that warm sound that made her stomach flutter. When soft familiar velvet encased her searching hand, she smiled.

"Ah, Listener you are a terrible actress, Cicero knows you have awoken."

"Perhaps it was because you saw fit to disturb me, Keeper, I did have a rather long trip." Mirilla grumbled playfully, her voice slightly raspy with sleep. Cicero poked Mirilla's cheek and she laughed, giving up and opening her eyes to face him.

What a welcome sight that wide smile was.

"How was-....." Cicero stopped suddenly, his eyes widening comically as he stared into hers. She quirked a brow at him, already guessing what had halted his speech.

"Miri..." His mouth hung open in shock and he leaned down towards her.

"Your eyes are so...blue!!"

Mirilla was certain that his grin threatened to rip his face in half, but she returned it all the same.

"Blue! Beautiful and dark like ice in the Ghost Sea!! Ahahahaha- Cicero is getting chills just looking at them!"

Cicero couldn't control his excitement it seemed, he flopped onto the bed with her and laughed loudly and pulled her into a somewhat awkward half-sitting hug.

"When did this happen, dear Listener?! Was it by choice, were you forced to!? Ooo or did you decide that blood wasn't tasty enough anymore?"

He spoke almost to fast for her sleepy mind, but his energy and enthusiasm did wonders for waking one up. She placed her hands on his back and returned the hug after her moment of surprise, and she shook her head after he spoke.

"I chose this, I...well I gave being undead a chance and I suppose I simply missed being alive." She murmured into the collar of his tattered motley, his red hair brushed against her cheek and she nuzzled further against him. Mirilla deliberately excluded how she longed for real food once more, he would simply tease her for it.

"The Listener is so very warm.." He said in a low voice into her ear, giving her a shiver down her spine which didn't go unnoticed. Cicero chuckled and pulled away from her, though not entirely.

Mirilla shifted a bit until she was more comfortable; sitting in between his legs on her bed was not how she imagined this reunion but it didn't bother her in the slightest.

"Everything looks brighter, even your hair." Cicero mused, his hand playing with the slightly damp braid of her ash brown hair.

"I suppose everything dulls when you're undead, I don't know how Babette could stand it for three-hundred years when I could hardly go three months." She laughed and he grinned, dropping her braid in favor of playing with the thick loose strands that framed her cheeks.

"I...how was your time here while I was gone?" She asked, her heart had not stopped pounding since he grabbed her and it didn't seem like it was going to stop any time soon.

"Oh boring! Quite droll really, my sweet Listener. Cicero wishes that he could have a contract or two, but of course I must stay by Mothers side.." he paused, looking at his hands and then taking his gloves off, promptly cupping her cheek before they even hit the mattress.

She stared at him as he continued to ramble, her breathing quickening noticeably as he touched her cheeks with his bare hands; his thumb stroked over the beauty mark near her chin.

"Hmm so warm...-ah not that Cicero doesn't enjoy keeping mother safe and _preserved_... just sometimes I do miss a good stabbing!"

"Right..stabbing.." Mirilla murmured, her eyes now focusing on the lower half of his face. Particularly his mouth.

"Yes! Stabbing! It has been so long for poor Cicero, I fear I may get... _rusty_." His voice lowered darkly and Mirilla swallowed, licking her lips and looking back up to meet his gaze.

He was watching her, amusement playing in his warm brown eyes and she knew her cheeks must be bright red since they felt like fire. Slowly she let her hands slide down to his lithe waist and rest there, she watched as his lips twitched even more upward at the movement.

"I doubt you are anything but rusty, Keeper." She teased and tilted her head to lean against his palm. He chuckled and shrugged, his hand curling around the back of her neck.

"Hehehehe, oh sweet Mirilla always knows just what to say."

Mirilla stared into his half-lidded eyes, unconsciously inching a little closer. She felt the rush of desire hot upon her skin and before she could think better of it, she found herself whispering..

"Kiss me."

Cicero made a short sound of approval, and perhaps a hint of surprise. But whatever he thought at that moment had him leaning in and brushing his thumb teasingly across her lower lip.

"As my Listener commands." He whispered, his voice dipped in honey.

Cicero didn't waste any time fitting his mouth against hers, his fingers curled into her hair and she arched into him. Her eyes closed and her lips parted for him, inviting him for a deeper taste and earning a happy hum from him. Her arms found their way around his shoulders and her hands clung to the faded black lapel of his tunic, holding him close. Before she even noticed they moved, her back was pressed firmly against the furs of her bed and he was laying half on top of her.

How long had she wanted this madman's kiss, she couldn't be sure but it felt like the existence of this want for him was timeless. He kissed her and kissed her until each breath that she managed to catch was lost once more, and his tongue parted her plump lips and invaded her mouth to explore as he pleased. Cicero had a hand on her waist, his grip tight like he was afraid of loosening his hold, his other hand lightly cupped her cheek with tender strokes of his thumb.

When they parted, there was a breath of distance that felt like an eternity to Mirilla, empty as The Void and she wanted nothing more than to fill it once more with just him. Cicero was absent of a grin, his lips were still partially parted as his intent gaze focused on only her.

Mirilla licked her swollen lips and ran her fingers through his red hair, tucking it behind his ear. Her breath was uneven and her heart raced for him, but as she watched him she could see he was in no better a state. His wide eyes stared into hers and she felt a prickle of nervousness.

“Cicero..?” she whispered.

Whatever thoughts that were still going through his mind had him pressing his mouth once more to hers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R-rated sexytimes ahead! Sorry it took so long, rl has been super busy. 
> 
> Also, I apologize for any typos/misspellings present in any previous chapters, I went through them all and fixed as many as I could find.
> 
> Enjoy! ^w^

"Er...Cicero is terribly sorry for being so _forward_ , Listener!" Cicero stammered as he looked up at her from where he now sat, which was on the floor...where he threw himself after Mirilla squeaked and jolted beneath him when he put his hand surprisingly far up inside her shift. He looked horrified and guilty as if he had committed a terrible crime. It would be kind of amusing if she thought about how many people he must have killed or tortured remorselessly, but amusement is not what she felt when she looked into his eyes now.

"Cicero is the worst, the worst! He should not have done that, _nonono_. Not to his sweet Listener!” He brought both of his hands to his face and slapped them on either side, holding them there and shaking his head side to side. In the back of her mind, Mirilla wondered how his hat seemed to always stay perfectly in place.

"No it's alright, really." Mirilla whispered soothingly as she tried to assure him, scooting to the edge of the bed and then dropping to her knees in front of him. His wide eyes followed her every movement and rested on her hands when she placed them on the tops of his thighs, she could see him start to relax a bit.

"You just surprised me, is all." She added truthfully.

Cicero's brows scrunched as if he didn't believe the Listener _could_ be surprised and he let his hands fall to his lap with hers.

“Cicero…will stop if you want-” He tried to say, but she shook her head and threaded her fingers with his, leaning over and giving him a slow kiss.

"I _want_ you to touch me." Mirilla said against his lips, edging closer until she was nearly in his lap. She lifted a hand to his cheek and kissed him again until the tension in his shoulders loosened, and again until he whined low in his throat and pressed her back against the edge of the bed and parted her thighs for him to sit in between. But Cicero groaned as if remembering himself and he fastened his hands onto the bed frame behind her and she knew he was only trying to control his wandering hands due to her past reaction. But she did not want him to hold back with her, not ever.

“Cicero, put your hands on me.” She whispered against his lips and it was all he seemed to need to be on her again, his body crowding hers and his touch roaming freely. He gripped her thighs and his hands ventured down until they reached her full hips, the soft surface of his palms causing gooseflesh to rise. This time she didn’t flinch when he slid his hands inside her chemise and groping her, sliding to her backside and squeezing the globes of flesh like he couldn’t help himself and pulling her hips closer to his. He certainly regained his confidence quickly, not at all a timid man it seemed and Mirilla felt like she could drown in his touch and taste and the low sounds he made just for her.

Mirilla let her hand explore too, slim fingers trailed down his neck and caressing the rapid pulse, then dipped her hand inside his tunic to feel the warmth of his skin at his nape. Her other slid down his chest then lower, feeling the taut stomach underneath. Tentatively, she hooked her fingers under the tunic and pulled to un-tuck it from his breeches in none too subtle gesture for him to get rid of the patchwork garment. Cicero’s lips pulled into a grin against hers, and she felt the stomach beneath her fingers tense along with a pleased chuckle that almost made her toes curl at the mischievousness of it.

“Ooo does the Listener wish Cicero to remove this?” He whispered as he moved back just slightly, reaching one groping hand from her ass and pulling at his motley with a suggestive brow quirked. There was a hitch in his voice that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but lust, and the confidence shining in his eyes had her stomach clenching in anticipation. She nodded, and in the blink of an eye her Keeper and divested himself of the garment and to her brief surprise his hat was removed as well. Mirilla looked at the new expanse of skin bared before her, and her hands rose to feel the taut muscles of his abdomen. She tilted her head and kissed him over his heart, hearing him suck in a breath as she opened her mouth to bite the same spot.

His arms wrapped around her and lifted her, twisting them around so he was leaning against the bed legs crossed with her perched on his lap. Cicero's hands found the hem of her chemise and lifted it shift up slowly, making sure it was alright by keeping contact with her eyes. She was unafraid of being naked, but she was perhaps a bit nervous about where this was no doubt headed, not that she wanted her lovely Cicero to know that. Lifting her arms for him was an unconscious thing, and soon she found herself being feasted on by the warm whiskey eyes of her Keeper. His hands trailed down her arms as she rested them on his shoulders, and he ghosted them down her sides and back up to brush a thumb under the swell of a petite breast.

“You’re so...”

Mirilla smiled and leaned in, bringing his mouth to hers and swallowing whatever else he might have said and hiding the red of her cheeks. She knew her body pleased him, tight from all the years of training with bows and daggers yet her skin was soft and unmarred from her charmed life as a noble lady. Save for the scar from the vampire who had turned her, but it was barely noticeable and hidden on her neck by her hair. He caressed her breasts with firm, eager hands and she felt heat trickle low inside her with each pinch and roll of her nipples in his deft fingers and each instinctual grind of his groin into hers. Mirilla touched him everywhere she could as he tried to devour her, lips tongue and teeth clashing and dissolving any uncertainty that she might not be ready for this.

Reaching down for his breeches, she all but demanded they be removed, and her Keeper was quite happy to kick them off for her. She lifted to her knees also he could shimmy out of them, laughing when his boot got caught and at the look of betrayal he cast it. Once he wrangled his breeches off, he sat back down in his underpants and coaxed her into his lap once more.

Lips clashed once more and Mirilla moaned quietly into his hungry mouth, pressing her bare skin into his and trembling at the electrifying touch. Cicero's strong arms wrapped her up tightly, both hands pressing against her ass and grinding up to rub the aching cock in his smallclothes insistently against her.

Her hand was reaching down, fully intent on freeing that delicious hardness when a knock measured softly at the door.

The mouth that was locked with hers jerked away and she couldn't help but groan in irritation and chase after his warm, wet lips. Cicero stared at her with a clear look of longing and dismay for a moment until another knock sounded. He quite obviously shared her resentment for the sound if his resounding scowl was anything to go by, and he looked over at the door as if it had offended him on a deep and personal level.

Which clearly it had.

“Oh of _course_ …” Cicero grumbled. She half expected him to grouch loudly at whomever it was on the opposite side of the door but instead he looked at her, brows furrowed deeply and cheeks flushed with desire. His mouth twisted down and lower lip pouting, making Mirilla want to lean in and capture it.

With a rough sigh, Mirilla decided firmly that she would detest the sound of a knock for the rest of her days.

“Be right there!” She called, not quite able to hide the contempt in her quivering voice. With one last glance at Cicero, she lifted herself from his lap and grabbed her robe to throw over her nearly bare body and schooled her irritation before heading to the door. No doubt she would still look a disheveled mess to whoever was on the opposite side, but she wanted to get rid of them quickly so she tried not to think of what they might see.

Opening the door revealed Veezara, much to her surprise.

“Brother, how may I help you?” she asked, voice as calm as she could manage and eyes determinedly friendly.

The Argonian clasped his hands together in his front, a sort of placating gesture as if he were apologizing for disturbing her without actually saying the words and she simply smiled and awaited his reasoning for taking her from her Keepers embrace.

“I saw you had returned, sister. I only wished to ask after you, to see if you were well. You seemed quite different when you arrived and I found myself concerned.” his raspy response filled her ears and Mirilla was once again surprised. She hadn't thought anyone but Nazir had taken any notice of her but she found her irritation deflating and she gave him a kinder smile.

“I'm alright, Veezara. There is no cause for worry, I was simply in need of some rest.” she answered truthfully, a hand coming up to brush a bit of stray hair back from her cheek. His sharp green eyes scanned her quickly, and when they landed back on hers she saw his sharp teeth bear in a hint of a smile. She felt the embarrassment coming on but she fought it back, determined not to show it.

“Of course, sister. You no doubt had a long journey.”

“It was indeed long.” Mirilla nodded in agreement, her finger playing with a seam on her robe. “...But not unpleasant.” She added after a beat, perfectly okay with admitting she had enjoyed her simple contracts.

“Ah, but you've changed.” He said, tilting his head and blinking once. “Look at you, so full of life. Your cheeks are even pink, or is that sunburn?” Veezara appraised, clearly approving of her most recent major life decision and she wondered if he disliked the idea of undeath. It wasn't as if it weren't an obvious thing to anyone who would bother to look, but Mirilla was couldn't help but be a little touched that her new brother thought enough about her to seek her out, and to notice her change.

“I did get a lot of sun on my way back.” she nodded, having completely forgotten that she did indeed have a small sunburn.

Well, she had been quite distracted…

“It…shows...” He took a step back and let his hands fall to his sides, and though his eyes never seemed to leave hers, she could see a sudden recognition in them. No doubt he noticed the half-naked and sulking jester sitting cross-legged on her floor. She could perfectly picture his deep and adorable scowl, cheeks puffed out as he waited impatiently behind her for Veezara to take his leave.

“I...have disturbed you enough for the evening, get some rest sister. No doubt you will need it.” He said with a sly look in his eye as nodded a farewell and quietly slipped away down the hall. Mirilla shut her door not a moment after the swish of his tail was out of sight and pressed her back against the wood.

“How very thoughtful our brother is to worry after you so.” Cicero's unevenly pitched voice carried to her ears with no small hint of mockery, and she found her lips quirking slightly.

“He was simply being kind...” she looked down at her Keeper and their eyes locked, the intensity of what had happened moments before still smoldering in his whiskey depths.

Alone again and hopefully with no one else to disturb them for the night, the thought had Mirilla's body moving slowly back to her bed. Cicero watched her the whole time, the heat in her veins stoking at what might be going on in his mind and the promise his gaze held. The memory of their embrace called out to her, and she sat slowly on her bed, beckoning him with an outstretched hand.

A quiet giggle escaped him as he moved swiftly forward, taking her hand in his and crowding her back into the furs, sinful smile back once more as his knee spread her thighs open. She went willingly, wrapping her other arm around his shoulders and watching as he brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the fingertips sweetly before releasing it and closing the short distance between them.

Mirilla's patience suffered more and more with each playful bite and slide of warm skin as he rubbed against her, and her eagerness made itself known when she dug her nails into Cicero's hips and pushed the band of his underpants down insistently. Cicero chuckled and nuzzled at her throat, lifting to whisper into her ear.

“Hmm so impatient, does the Listener want something down there?” he teased, and she huffed in embarrassment and shoved at him until he was kneeling between her legs.

“Off with them, now.” she ordered, chest rising and falling rapidly as her heart threatened to implode in her chest. Cicero's eyes darkened and she could see the shift in him from playful to ravenous; like a switch flipped.

It was like his eyes were trying to eat her alive, and Mirilla felt her whole body respond.

Her Keeper did what he was told, ever dutiful and eager to please the whims of his beloved Listener. He slid his underpants down and off, not exactly making a show of it but Mirilla could swear she saw the gleam of mirth in his eyes until she looked down and was met with the sight of him. Completely bare and eager, flushed cock bobbing between his legs completely unashamed.

Gods.

Heart in her throat, Mirilla couldn't quite look away from it despite trying to hide the fact that she'd never actually seen one so close before. She wasn't afraid, but she wasn't going to lie to herself and say she didn't feel a little intimidated. Lifting up, she caressed her hand up along his thigh, leading a path to the pulsing cock that stood proudly at attention for her.

Feeling Cicero's eyes on her the whole time had her skin tingling deliciously, and when her hand finally grasped him, the sound he made had her responding with a small gasp of approval. She looked up at him, lips slightly parted and tongue flicking out to wet them as she started to stroke him in long, unhurried pumps. Cicero shuddered, eyes hooded and raptly staring at where she had seized him and watching every movement, the corners of his mouth faintly curled as his breaths came out a little faster. 

When his hand came down and closed over her own, Mirilla realized that her mouth was inches away, watering at the sight of each stroke over flushed skin. If she moved just a bit more, she could have him in her mouth.

“Miri...” he whispered, voice thickening sweetly and causing her to look up to catch his hungry gaze.

Rising up, she couldn't help but kiss him, delving her fingers into his thick red hair and letting out a soft whine of need as they met chest to chest. Cicero's hands made quick work of her own underthings, sliding them down until they caught at her knees and he giggled, delighted at the soft growl of frustration she gave as they were forced to move apart to remove them.

Once she was well and truly naked, she shivered and watched as his soft hands made their way down her body and to the hot center between her legs. He leaned in and kissed her, demanding her attention with his mouth even as his fingers did not hesitate to dip between her aching folds and wet themselves in her dripping pussy.

It was a good thing she had her arms around him because as soon as he rubbed one long swipe against her clit, she buckled into him and a moan ripped from her, which he swallowed greedily. She felt her thighs part wider with each pass of his fingers, and her nails dug into the back of his neck when he decided to slip one inside her. He stroked her insides slowly, deliberately and with a curve to his finger on each outward rub, her thighs were shaking by the time he began to stop.

“My beautiful, lovely Listener...just _look_ how wet you are.” He purred, tongue tracing the shell of her half pointed ear, his hand splayed palm up between them. She glanced down and bit her lip, the sight of his slick fingers making her quiver.

“Cicero…” she panted, and closed her eyes when he gently bit her ear at its slightly pointed tip. When she looked at him he was grinning, not like he usually did, no this grin was soft and loving, full of desire and only for her.

Her Keeper was still wearing that dimpled smile as he brought them both to lie on the bed on their sides, grabbing her hips and pulling her tight to him and an almost giddy laugh bubbling from his chest. He hooked an arm around her knee and wrapped her thigh around his hips, and she sucked in a sharp breath as the weight of his cock pressed into her pelvis. Cicero reached down and angled it so the topside was rubbing directly against her, and she bucked her hips at the sinful feel of him.

Mirilla allowed her head to rest on Cicero's bicep as he curled his arm around her, petting a hand through her hair and kissing her deeply. One of her own arms were trapped between them but she couldn't feel it, the only thing she could feel was how slick she was making his shaft, and how it was causing such delicious friction between them. The thigh that was curled around his hip tightened its hold, her heel digging into his lower back as she tried to shift her hips just right.

They rubbed against each other, fingers gripping tight and hips bucking until finally, Cicero's lips parted from hers and she gasped for breath. His breath became nearly as erratic as her own when he leaned his forehead against hers, eyes wide and pleading and skin tinted with a hint of red at the apples of his cheeks.

“Can… _Listener_...may I- please...” Cicero's voice cracked, his tone deeper and pleading. He planted his foot on the bed in order to get a better angle, the tip of his cock rubbing her clit with each upward thrust of his hips. Maybe she should have told him that she has never done this, but it was Cicero, and she had a feeling he would have a strong reaction to that bit of information and she didn’t want to wait any longer. She knew he would forgive her.

“Yes-” she kissed him, hard and messy. “ _Yes.._.” her voice a low hiss of breath, drawn out and rough to her ears. He quickly fit a hand between them and lined himself up, impatience clear in his shaking hand as he pressed the throbbing tip into her. Moving in slowly had Cicero's thighs and hands trembling for control by every inch he guided inside, and Mirilla's toes curled, whimpering at the stinging intrusion. But her hips rolled into it, his name from her lips coming out choked and breathless when his hand moved to her ass and he thrust the rest of the way in.

Cicero held her close and her heel dug into his spine as he started slowly thrusting, mumbling incoherently into her neck as he kissed and bit at her skin. She could feel his fingers fisting into her hair, his back flexing under her hands and the sting inside of her dulling with each rock of his hips. It turned into a scorching heat that threatened to steal the breath from her and made her nearly dizzy with the intensity of it; she gripped him tighter and began meeting his thrusts just as hungrily.

“Listener…Mirilla-” He panted her name, her title, reverently and claimed her bottom lip between his teeth. Cicero sucked and nibbled and kissed her until she felt like she was being swallowed up and devoured by him. With a sudden push, Mirilla was on her back and Cicero was delving back inside of her with slow, purposeful thrusts, hand still gripping tight to her ass. His soft red hair brushed her cheek as she peeled her eyes open to look at him, his skin flushed red and mouth twisted in pleasure was the most sinful thing she had ever seen.

The dull pain was just as sweet as the pleasure building up inside of her, intoxicating and threatening to push her over the edge with each low cry from her lips. His pelvis rubbing her clit with every thrust, shooting overwhelming sparks of pleasure through her core and she spread her thighs wider and arched her hips to chase the feeling.

Mirilla stiffened when it became too much and a muffled sob tore from her as her walls fluttered in pleasure around him. A few shuddering thrusts later and he followed soon after, a gravely moan sounding from his throat that broke off into a crack of shocked laughter as he thumped his forehead onto the furs at the side of her head.

Cicero hummed lazily and kissed her shoulder and neck up to her cheek, their heavy breaths slowly calming as he nuzzled her cheek contently and they each came down from their highs. A small, blissful smile pulled at her mouth and she rolled her head to face him, his warm whiskey eyes meeting her vibrant blue.

She couldn’t say anything, words fell short of what she felt and she was far too tired and perfectly numb to even attempt forming a meaningful sentence. Cicero seemed to understand this because he just let that dimpled grin slip back into place, and gently withdrew from her. The action made her wince and he halted at her side, staring at her with those wide eyes of his and wrapping her up in his arms, nestling her close to his chest.

“Is the...are _you_ alright, my lovely Miri?”

She noticed he corrected himself and she wondered if maybe the intimacy of the moment had those chaotic barriers of his warped persona lowering just enough to let him sound a little less mad jester and more caring lover. Honestly, Mirilla didn’t mind how he spoke, never had; she just sometimes wished he wasn’t so quick to worry. His brows were drawn down in concern, and she smiled softly, pressing a finger to the wrinkles to smooth them and nodded.

“I’m better than alright.” Mirilla told him, her soft smile earnest and satisfied. His response was to wrap her up tighter and chuckle into her hair, smoothing the light brown locks with one soft hand.

“ _Good_ … Cicero lives to please...” He quipped with a self-satisfied giggle like he had accomplished the feat all his own, and she pinched him above the ribs in response which earned another fit of giggles from her brazen Keeper.

“Though…I may be a little sore for a while, that’s to be expected though.” She mumbled into his chest, pressing her cheek against the slightly sweaty skin and closing her eyes. She wanted him to know he had been her first. Her only.

Cicero stared at her for a beat, mouth partially agape and eyes wide and incredulous as he processed what she meant. Then he was rolling on top of her and squishing her into the furs, kissing her all over her face and neck, anywhere he could reach.

“Mirilla! You should have told poor Cicero! He didn’t think- I didn’t _think-_ ” he cut himself off with a frustrated groan and clutched her tightly, arms shaking. She just cooed softly and held her fretting Keeper just as tight, burying her nose in his messy red locks.

“I wanted it to be you…I’ve never wanted anyone else.” Her voice was a low whisper like she was confessing a dark secret, but Cicero just let out a shuddering breath and turned to kiss her long and deep and full of promise.


End file.
